


Freedom to Move

by Adventures_in_Writing



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, Miraculous Moves, breakdance au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6838162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adventures_in_Writing/pseuds/Adventures_in_Writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrien barely recognised himself in the mirror and his grin widened.</p>
<p>Perfect.</p>
<p>Pulling his hood a little further over his face, he followed a trio of similarly dressed individuals to the little hidden studio where freedom beckoned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom to Move

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the wonderful Miraculous Moves/Breakdance AU by [ starrycove ](http://starrycove.tumblr.com/) / [ miraculous moves ](http://miraculousmoves.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr and all the kick-ass fanart I’ve seen floating around.

* * *

Adrien dried his hair with the towel before stepping out of the shower stall. Ballet practice had ended a couple of hours ago, however the rest of the dancers had headed out for a night of celebration. The blonde dancer had been asked to join them but Adrien had waved them on, insisting that he wanted to spend a little extra time in the studio: his father had expectations that Adrien needed to meet. He sighed as he rummaged through his bag, looking for his spare clothes.

Freedom.

It wasn’t something that a certain Adrien Agreste had very much of. Being the son of a prominent man in the field and being such a highly skilled male ballerina brought with it restrictions that had kept him in a neat little box for fear of not meeting his father’s high expectations. Adrien enjoyed ballet, truly, but sometimes he just wanted to feel the music and _move_. He didn’t want to always have to worry about his perfect turn out or how his _plié_ looked or ensuring that he elegantly executed a _pas de chat_.

Adrien grabbed his trousers and pulled them out of his bag, though he didn’t move to put them on. He wasn’t quite ready to go home yet but he didn’t want to continue his ballet exercises either. Instead, he reached into his bag again, taking out a pair of loose fitting black pants with an electric green waistband. It took a moment for Adrien to pull together his resolve as he stepped into the comfortable material.

He had heard about the Den a couple of months ago, some dancers in a class or two before his whispering amongst themselves about the place. From what Adrien managed to overhear, it was a hidden little dance studio where you could dance however you wanted. Freestyle was their jam and everyone and anyone was welcome. Adrien had tried to look it up online, but there wasn’t a great deal of information to be found. It seemed as though the studio thrived on word-of-mouth and recommendation, though after countless searches and a few more overheard conversations, Adrien had learned where the studio was located and, perhaps even more importantly, about the interesting dress code that applied.

Peering into the mirror for a second, looking at his appearance, Adrien drew a breath to calm his nerves. Adrien had never done something like this before. Taking his first and index finger, he dipped them into the little pot of black face paint he held and, hesitating just a second to look at himself in the mirror again, he smeared the paint across his nose and forehead to make a mask. Adrien carefully spread the paint over his eyelids and hesitated just a second before opening his eyes to look at his handiwork. The black mask made his green eyes seem even brighter than they already were, and the electric green trimming on his black over-shirt accentuated them further. The golden bell that rested against his throat complimented his blonde hair and added just a tiny pop of colour to his costume. His trousers were soft and comfortable and just as easy to move around in as his tights were. Adrien had swapped out his ballet flats for regular sneakers in the same electric green as the trimming on his shirt to tie the outfit together. With a smile to himself, Adrien pulled up the hood on his shirt, carefully arranging it so the little cat ears were sitting up properly, as he made a few more final little adjustments. Adrien barely recognised himself and his grin widened.

Perfect.

Pulling his hood a little further over his face, Adrien followed a trio of similarly dressed individuals wearing comfortable dance clothing and the telltale face paint mask to the little hidden studio where freedom beckoned.

As he entered the dark studio, the thrumming beat that he wasn’t quite accustomed to was accompanied by a thrill of adrenaline that he hadn’t felt in years. He watched, wide eyed with wonder, at the limber bodies that were on the dance floor, popping and locking and breaking and tapping. It was an eclectic choreography of movement that made no sense to his structured ballet mind but was nonetheless breathtaking in how it interpreted the music.

The DJ by the entrance looked at Adrien with a knowing grin as he worked the turntables.

“Welcome to the Den, newbie.”


End file.
